


Feral Love

by Zoadgo



Series: Kinktober 2018 [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Creampie, Demon corruption, Demons, F/M, Forced Captivity, Good Intentions, Monster Boyfriend, Riding, Teratophilia, blood consumption, monster fucking, thought reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: Kitty Steward is one of the best damn hunters in the city. Well, probably, it's not like there's some public ranking or anything. But she's pretty sure she's great, she's never had any complaints from the company, or from the monsters she kills, for that matter. Or the monsters she nurses back to health, because while killing a feral vampire is a service to the community, killing one that's only halfway there seems like a waste. Which is what she's trying to do right now, so why won't this asshole just work with her and drink some damn blood?





	Feral Love

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So! This is for kinktober day six's prompt of **Biting** , and this is my little smutty baby. I have been working on it for so long, and I'm probably actually going to turn it into something full length one day. But yes, hopefully you guys enjoy Kitty and Feral as much as I do!

“Good morning, Kitty-cat!” 

_Jesus fucking Christ, kill me now._ Kitty dies a little on the inside as she steps onto the elevator with that annoyingly chipper receptionist from the eighth floor, but she smiles cheerfully all the same. What was that woman’s name again? Laura? Lara? Laurel?

“Good morning!” Kitty chirps back, deciding not to risk it with the name. Laney beams as Kitty takes up position next to her, and of course it would just be the two of them in there. If there were others, it would be easier, Kitty could just smile and they’d carry on conversation, but now she has to _try_. Kitty sighs internally; she’s so incredibly tired today, keeping up appearances is the worst.

“Ooo, who are the coffees for?” Llama coos, looking at tray Kitty carries. Kitty’s heart skips a beat, wondering if by some fluke of fate Lany knows what she’s smuggling in, before reminding herself there’s no way that’s possible. She just normally doesn’t bring in coffees, of course Lili would know that, sticking her nose in other people’s business is sort of what she does.

“Financing.” Kitty spits out the first lie that comes to her mind. She could have said her boss, but that could backfire in a number of ways. No one ever pays attention to the guys in financing. “I heard they might have a posting soon, and you know, it’s a steady job. Good benefits.”

“Oh,” Loco sounds a little sad, as if she had been hoping for some good gossip. _Sniff somewhere else for that, you bitch_. Even as Kitty thinks the spiteful words, Lulu gathers herself and smiles broadly. “Well, yes, of course. I think you’d fit in perfectly, those guys earn the most out of all of us. Except the hunters, of course, but that’s no place for a girl like you.”

Kitty laughs along with Lamia at the absurd notion of her as a hunter. Of course, how could a tiny little thing like her hunt big bad monsters? Unless, of course, she has a gun, stubbornness enough to stare down a mountain, and an overabundance of deep seated rage. You know, the things her company had looked for when they’d hired her on as a hunter in secret. 

“Oh, this is you! Good luck out there.” Lorna gives Kitty a thumbs up as the doors open on the sixth floor; financing, as she had so creatively lied.

Kitty simply awkwardly lifts the drink tray in response with a grin she doesn’t feel in the least. Pretending to be just one of the grunt workers kills her more and more every day, but it’s for the best. No one actually knows who any of the hunters are, so no grudge matches can be taken out against them. Kitty herself doesn’t even know.

She glances over her shoulder to see all of the financing department peering at her like frogs disturbed in their swamp, and she smiles at them too. That sends them scattering back to their boring, _boring_ work, and Kitty books it to the stairs. She is not risking getting into the elevator with anyone else and having her coffee cup contraband discovered. No one ever uses the stairs anyway.

By the ninth floor, Kitty debates it, but reminds herself that if she fails to be secretive, she could lose her job.

By the fourteenth, she has to remind herself she’ll probably be a target on someone else’s hunt list.

By the twenty seventh she’s sweating and fucking fuming with rage.

Kitty drags her adorable, angry ass up to the thirty-first floor and out onto the roof. The cool air whipping in the wind up there does nothing but serve to make her shiver, which makes her even more furious. She stalks across the roof, grumbling curses and wondering why she even tries. She should just do her damn job, like she’s sure every other hunter in the building does. 

Instead of that, Kitty busts open the door of the maintenance shack that she had long ago repurposed for her needs. She pants more aggressively from exertion than she strictly needs to and glares into the dimly lit room.

“Fuck you.” Not the most creative opening line, but one she feels down to her very core in that moment. Kitty sets down the coffee cups and closes the door behind her before turning on the rest of the lights, and looking at the asshole who made her climb all those damn stairs.

The near-feral vampire she’d captured several days ago raises his head slowly to look at her, dull red eyes gazing mournfully. His skin looks even worse than it had, greying and cracking as he slips towards the wild, animated corpse status that would mean Kitty has to kill him. She doesn’t want to, even if right now she really sort of does. But Kitty never kills something that can be saved, no matter how much trouble that puts her through. She might hate every second of it, but she damn well does it.

Well… Kitty’s gaze drops to the bindings holding him in his chair, to the lean muscles straining in his forearms. She hates almost every second of it. She has to admit, though, she does like feeling so powerful over the things that could very well make her weak. And some very dark, incredibly quiet place whispers that she maybe has a thing for critters that go bump in the night.

Kitty shakes her head and recenters herself as the feral sighs.

“What do you want?” He asks, as if she’s being quite the imposition right now. Kitty grits her teeth in anger and picks up one of the coffee cups, sloshing it in his direction.

“What I want is to go home. Or go to a bar and pick up a nice, big, strong, human guy who will appreciate the ass all this stair climbing is giving me. What I want is to not be desperately trying to save your ungrateful rabid ass,” Kitty snaps. It’s cathartic, really, not having to pretend in front of him to be nicer than she is. But he also pisses her off even more when he drops his head, straight up moping. Kitty reminds herself that him communicating and having emotional responses is a good thing; it means he hasn’t gone full feral yet.

“Then why don’t you do that?” He asks, and Kitty closes her eyes and counts to ten. She counts to ten really fast, which maybe defeats the purpose, but patience is not her strongest suit.

She stalks across the room, forcing a straw through the narrow mouth of the coffee cup lid as she does so. She stops well out of reach of him, holding out the cup so he can just get the straw if he strains forward against his bindings. He should be able to smell it by now, should have been able to when she first walked in the room. But he makes no reaction to the offer of blood, and Kitty wants to scream. This is the third goddamn day in a row.

“Just drink it, you idiot.” Kitty sighs in exasperation. She knows near-feral vamps aren’t exactly the best at thinking straight, but come on, he can talk to her so surely he can figure out she’ll let him go if he starts on a better diet, right?

“No,” comes the mumbled response. Kitty takes a deep breath and counts to ten again. Or at least, she tries to, but she doesn’t even get halfway.

“Listen up you little feral,” Kitty practically growls, “I had to go through so much shit-” A total lie, she has a connection at the blood bank and just needed to fork over an extra ten bucks to request the type “-to get this for you. Because of course you’re the pickiest goddamn starving vamp in all the world and will only drink O neg, and now you won’t even drink that? Cut the bullshit.”

Righteous rage warms Kitty’s spine and tingles through her muscles for a moment before she realizes she just _scolded a freaking vampire, fuck Kitty, this is why you don’t have nice things_. Kitty swallows sharply and catches her breath, calming her racing heart. She’s way too close to him to be pulling shit like this, but she can’t move away now. If she shows fear to a feral, she’ll never be able to get him back on his feet.

Dark eyes meet her own, glaring up at her without raising his chin from its resting place on his chest. Not for the first time, Kitty feels uncomfortably like she’s the captive here, like there’s something more than a starved hunger behind the feral’s eyes. But her mother had always said being stubborn was a virtue, so she holds her will tight within herself and resists whatever aura Feral is putting out. Matching him glare for glare, Kitty allows the moment to stretch until he drops his gaze again with a soft sigh.

He’s so goddamn pathetic, and even as it grates on Kitty, something within her responds to it a little more softly. The same bit that used to read those trashy werewolf novels in middle school, probably.

“Listen, you need to drink. It’s- you’re falling apart here, and you’re one step short of feral. You’ll feel better if you just-” Kitty shakes the cup as way of finishing the sentence, and he wrinkles his nose. It causes the fissures around his face to deepen, new cracks forming, and Kitty really wishes that repulsed her more than it did. But she’s always been intrigued by things out of the norm, and it seems her little pet project is no exception.

Kitty sighs, letting go of some of her anger, and not for the first time she wishes she could risk touching his face. Just to touch his chin, make him turn towards her so he has to look at her properly. She doesn’t want to hurt him, no matter how frustrated she gets, she’s trying to help him. But she knows better than to reach out, knows that even though he starves himself from bottled blood, he won’t pass up a chance to bite her. So she softens her tone and tries again.

“Look, if you would just drink the blood, it’d help, you know? You’re not too far gone, you could get your hunger under control. And besides, just a little bit could help with the whole…” Kitty trails off, dragging her eyes over the cracks in his grey skin, like fractures running through stone, “...face thing.”

“...you think I’m ugly.” Feral’s voice is a weak whisper, sounding so broken it twists Kitty’s heart in her chest. Damn it, she’s not evil, she’s trying to help him not get put down by some dumbass hunter who doesn’t know when to pull the trigger!

“That’s not... necessarily true.” Kitty crouches in front of Feral and places her hands on his forearms, the skin as rough as stone, but with some form of strange heat beneath in. She can’t quite figure that out; a vamp gone this long without blood should be cold as a corpse. Maybe it’s something undocumented, Kitty doubts anyone’s been around a feral in the process of turning before. They call it unethical, to trap monsters and study the ins and outs of them. “I just don’t want to see you die. I want to help you.”

In a flash, less than the time it takes her heart to beat one full _tha-thump_ , Feral’s head is up and he’s fixing her with that burning gaze, straining as close to her as he can within his bonds. “Then let me go,” he hisses, voice like water on hot coals.

Kitty should be scared, like she was in those first days. She should be fighting the urge to shy away from him, from all the monstrous intensity in him. But something pulls her in, that hidden heat beneath his skin calling to her, and she wants to kiss him, wants to push him back into the chair and climb onto his lap and-

No. Bad Kitty. She reminds herself she’s rehabilitating him, not turning him into her personal sex slave to indulge her demon kink. 

“I can’t unless you’re drinking regularly. I’m not going to let you die,” Kitty states firmly, and Feral slumps back, but he keeps his head up this time. Without looking away from his eyes, Kitty picks up the cup of blood next to her and holds it up to him again. He wrinkles his nose, looking so much like a petulant child faced with broccoli that Kitty has to shake her head.

He takes the blood without any more spoken complaint, and Kitty feels a fierce thrill of accomplishment as the sounds of his feeding fills the room. The fractures in the skin of his face shift with distaste at every sip, but the cup grows lighter in Kitty’s hand. She waits for it to take effect, searches eagerly for any signs of rejuvenation.

“Just how starved were you?” Kitty thinks aloud as the blood seems to have no effect on him. She’s done this before, coaxed a vamp back from the edge of madness. Something about Feral’s state doesn’t quite make sense, making Kitty wonder if there’s any hope for him at all.

“Still starved,” Feral mumbles, despite a good two cups of blood making their way to his stomach. 

Kitty rises to her feet, rolling her shoulders with a shrug. “Well, there’s more where that came from, if you’re going to be good and drink it.”

Kitty crosses to dispose of the cup and grab another one, ensuring that it’s not the one that holds her actual coffee. That, she picks up and takes a swig of, wincing. Cold, black coffee is not exactly what the doctor ordered, but it’ll have to do. She sets it down, salvaging the straw from the drained cup, thus doing her utmost as a chef to prepare Feral’s next meal.

When she turns back to face him, she finds Feral’s gaze intense upon her once more. He seems incredibly in control of his mind for a starving vampire, seeing all too much. In fact, as he looks up to meet her eyes, it’s almost as if he can see right through her, past her gruff pretenses. It should unsettle her, but Kitty holds herself straighter under his scrutiny. Let him stare, it’s all he can do until he looks less like a gargoyle.

Kitty places her hand on his forearm once more, shaking the cup to entice him. As Feral drinks, she thinks about what he might look like in his more human state. Pale skin, gaunt cheekbones, luscious hair; Kitty has met many vampires before, and she finds the image doesn’t mesh with Feral in her mind. With a pang, she realizes she’d actually be sort of sad to see him like the idols on TV.

It’s only when Feral drops the straw from his mouth and looks down at his arm that Kitty realizes she’s been toying with his skin, drawing little circles, dragging her fingers over it as she might with an intimate acquaintance. She snatches her hand back like she’s been burned, dropping the coffee cup to the ground in her shock at her own actions. The too familiar scent of blood assaults her as the lid pops off and she adds yet another stain to the cement.

“Ah, damnit!” Kitty curses at the spill, turning her anger on the only sentient thing in the room. She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her hands to herself as she tries to calm her heart. “I thought you were done.”

“I don’t want any more,” Feral insists.

Kitty narrows her eyes, inspecting even the finest cracks and creases around his eyes and the joints of his fingers. Nothing has changed, and there’s no way the blood should still be having no effect on him.

“You’re not better yet,” Kitty points out, ever observant. Feral cocks his head to the side and looks up at her curiously. At least he’s no longer moping, even if his state raises a whole new batch of problems for Kitty. She thinks fast, drawing on her considerable knowledge of things other than human before hazarding a guess, “Did you have a run in with a demon?”

Feral perks up at that, and she figures she must have got it right. Demonic interference could have changed his energy source, blood might not be what he needs anymore. It’s more than likely that the demon who affected him is gone from this plane by now, though. Demons tend to rampage in their first moments on Earth, and it doesn’t take long for a hunter to send them back from whence they came. A demon who manages to calm their bloodlust and avoid detection at first would be able to stick around, building immense amounts of power with ease. Either way, no chance of Kitty tracking the bastard down and getting answers from them.

“Do you know what you need to survive?” Kitty asks, anger set aside in pursuit of knowledge.

“Nothing,” Feral answers, and there’s her anger, back again.

Kitty heaves a disgusted sigh, turning sharply on her heel and crossing over to the counter. She leans on it heavily, reality of the situation making itself uncomfortably known within her gut. Feral can’t be fixed with blood, and as far as he knows, he requires no sustenance. A vampire with no sustenance _will_ go feral, and then it needs to be put down. It’s unethical to keep monsters locked up and let them suffer.

Kitty feels the weight of concealed weapons about her, the call of arcane ammunition begging to be used. The thought turns her stomach. She’s never been squeamish about her hunts, but this… this isn’t a hunt. This would be an execution, and one of something that doesn’t deserve it.

Sorrow threatens to overwhelm her, and Kitty fights it off with fury. No, absolutely not, she won’t just give in. Even if it means calling her mom and getting her hippy ass to come out here, druid getup, Old Gods, and all, just to get some answers. Kitty turns back to Feral, steeling her resolve. Hopefully it won’t come to contacting her mother, Kitty will try everything else first.

The first thing, of course, is something so simple that she never even thought to try. Because why would she, she knew exactly what she was doing, until that continually, repeatedly failed. So stubbornness _sometimes_ isn’t the best trait.

“Is there anything you can think of that I can do to help you?” Kitty asks Feral, hastening to add, “Other than letting you go, of course.”

Feral whines at that, frowning as he thinks. He winces, glancing down at his right leg, before speaking up, “I have a cramp.”

“You-” Kitty sputters in disbelief, blinking hard, “Okay, maybe that’s on me, I meant anything to, like, fix you.”

“You could fix my cramp,” Feral suggests, looking like a wounded bird, which Kitty doesn’t buy for a damn second. Regardless, she drops to her knees, shaking her head.

“Alright, where’s the damn cramp?” Because she’s not cruel and this confinement isn’t meant to be torture, Kitty follows his instructions until Feral grunts in pained satisfaction. It’s a surprisingly good noise, guttural, and it reminds Kitty of her fixation. She shakes away the thought, but it remains in the back of her mind as she coaxes the sore muscle with strong fingers.

“You don’t even have pain nerves, how did you get a damn cramp?” Kitty asks, not really expecting an answer. She continues on her mini tirade, attention focused on her hands and Feral’s leg, “Like, that’s the major upside to necro beings; no normal bodily functions. No pain, no BMs or feeling like you need to piss yourself because there’s only five porta potties at a damn festival. You’ve got all that going for you, and you still manage to get a calf cramp?”

Kitty looks up at him, as if he would have an answer when he doesn’t even know what he needs to eat. Or rather, she would look up at him, but her eyes catch on something on the way, right about eye level. A telltale bulge in his pants that definitely wasn’t there before. Yeah, Kitty definitely would have noticed that.

Kitty should just ignore it. Just let go of his leg and go back down to the offices start her research, maybe see if there’s any pixie infestations that need to be cleared out or something. Anything to get her away from the truly impressive sight in front of her, to get her mind off of thoughts of undoing his fly, feeling the weight of him in her hand-

Kitty aborts that train of thought, but she doesn’t let go of Feral’s leg, nor does she do any of the other things she really should. Instead, she’s frozen, desperately trying to get her own urges under control. It’s hard to do so, however, when she can feel the evidence of her own interest in her throbbing cunt, and see his equally obvious declaration in front of her.

“I-” Kitty starts a sentence she has no idea how to finish, swallowing thickly. What’s the protocol here? So you’ve got a secret half-wild vampire stashed on the roof of the city’s foremost monster hunting agency, you’ve got more than a bit of a thing for monsters, and your vamp has a raging hard-on a foot away from your face.

If you check all those boxes, your name is Kitty Steward, and taking the moral high ground is so fucking difficult.

“I guess you have another, um, situation there?” Kitty suggests, even though she’s pretty sure it’s bad manners to call attention to your captive’s boner. She glances up at Feral’s face and sees a flicker of something like literal flames in his eyes. She shakes her head to clear them of the image; it must have just been some trick of the light, catching in the deep red there. “Do you want some help?”

Feral simply whimpers, nodding his head, and that is more than enough invitation for Kitty. She entertains the thought of simply jerking him off, or giving him the best blowjob of his entire undead life - it’s not bragging if it’s true - but she finds her hands going to the fly of her jeans of their own accord. Well, never let it be said that Kitty shies away from making her desires known.

She sheds her pants in a heartbeat, leaving panties in place just in case anyone should decide to come up to the roof on this of all days. There would be no mistaking the situation, but at least if someone barges in on them she has a chance to limit their knowledge of exactly what her vagina looks like. It would be a small comfort as she gets so very fired, to know that no one in her building can accurately imagine her naked.

She pulls Feral’s pants down to his ankles, no underwear to contend with, and she wonders how that can’t be entirely uncomfortable. Hell, she’d go crazy if she had to live a life entirely devoid of panties, she can’t quite blame him for his current state.

And oh, that state. His affliction extends to his sizeable cock, because of course it does, skin is skin. The cracks there aren’t as pronounced, thankfully. Kitty can’t stop herself from reaching out to feel him. Under her touch, he feels less like the granite of his forearms, and more like a dried leather. She wonders if his lips are the same, but that would be going too far, even for Kitty. He’s still a vampire, and she must remember and respect that.

Wet arousal leaks from Kitty as she climbs onto his lap, action only slightly inhibited by the need to keep herself far away from his mouth. Much as she might like that to not be the case, it is. Well, she’ll just have to find different way to amuse herself, other than his lips and the fangs beyond.

Kitty braces herself on one of his forearms, the peculiar heat of him seeming to soak through her palm and straight into the core of her. She almost whimpers with need as she positions the head of his cock underneath her, pressing down slowly. He’s bigger than most guys she picks up in human bars, larger than all but her ‘special occasion’ dildos as well. But Kitty doesn’t back down from a challenge, especially one with such a sweet reward if she manages it.

It’s almost too much, as his head slowly spreads her open, spearing into her. Kitty can’t stifle all of her whimpers at the burn of it, but she does her best. Persevering, she carries on, and the first inch of Feral’s dick slips inside of her.

It aches, but in a way that drives Kitty crazy. She’s always been drawn in by things just a bit beyond the edge of logic; size queen toys, crazy rough sex, hickeys that last for weeks. And, well, monsters. Not that she’s ever fucked a monster prior to this, mind you. If Feral is a standard example of their kind, however, she’s been missing out. His textured length feels phenomenal as she takes him inside of her, perhaps not as slow as she should, but as slow as she can hold herself back to.

“Holy shit,” Kitty gasps as she bottoms out against him, feeling him impossibly, almost dangerously deep within her. 

It’s overwhelming, and Kitty wants nothing more than to lean forward and rest her forehead against his shoulder, to taste the skin there as see if it tastes of earth. Instead, she leans back, hands on his arms, moaning as the shift in position moves her against him. Seated fully, her clit is ground against his crotch, sending bolts of stimulation through her with every small movement.

“Kitty,” Feral moans her name as Kitty rocks her hips against him. It sounds decadent, a debauched incantation, and Kitty embraces the warm curl of pleasure it snakes through her stomach. Something tickles at her already sex-slowed mind, and she tries to ignore it, but the thought is persistent. 

Kitty’s blood runs cold as realization dawns on her. “I never told you my name.”

“I know,” Feral whines, trying to thrust now that she’s stopped moving, but not accomplishing much given his restraints. “But I know you. Your name, your thoughts, your… desires.”

The last word curls from his lips so hotly it sends a shiver through Kitty and momentarily distracts her from her ill timed terror. She wants to reach forward and grab him by the hair, make him realize how serious this is, but even now, with his cock deep inside her, she won’t risk her wrist that close to those teeth, which seem far more pointed than she remembers.

“Vampires can’t read minds,” Kitty states, and she really should get off of him, but no matter how frightened and vaguely betrayed by this revelation she is, Kitty can’t ignore the want that still pulses deep in her belly.

“Not a vampire.” Feral locks his eyes onto Kitty’s and she can see what she desperately doesn’t want to know. She can see what he is. 

“You’re a demon.”

Feral grins wide, and Kitty’s stomach flips. Holy mother of god, she kidnapped a demon and called him an idiot! Feral bucks his hips a little, jostling her clit just enough to make Kitty’s breath catch in her throat and oh holy fuck, she’s _fucking_ a demon. Kitty should run. 

Now.

Climb off his lap, grab her pants, and run. You know what, forget the pants. Running is the important part here.

Kitty, of course, does no such thing. So many things click into place; the heat under his skin, the aura he had, the lack of effect blood had on him. Kitty drags her gaze over the crevices in his skin, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. This isn’t a sign of him slowly dying due to starvation, this is him barely being contained by a mortal form.

Holy _shit_ there’s an immortal being’s dick inside of her.

“Are you afraid of me?” Feral asks, and Kitty knows the answer. 

_Yes, of course._

“...no,” Kitty barely whispers, and a look of honest relief washes over Feral’s features.

“You should be, but…” Feral cocks his head to the side, “I’m glad you’re not. I want you, Kitty, every bit of you. Every scrap of thought and inch of skin. I want you to be mine.”

Any last shreds of shock and fear are whisked away, replaced by an all new flood of desire. Kitty bites her lips and whimpers. She wonders what he would do to her, to claim her. Would he live up to his namesake, pinning her to the floor and rutting her like a rabid animal? Or maybe he would throw her up against a wall, hold her there with his superhuman strength and fuck her until she couldn’t stand any more. Maybe he would drag those teeth over her neck, savouring the moment before-

“Yess,” Feral hisses, and Kitty is certain his teeth weren’t that sharp moments before, “All that and more.”

Right, the whole thought reading thing. Creepy, but also undeniably hot in this case. Kitty begins to roll her hips again, and Feral’s head falls back against the chair, mouth opening around a low groan. 

“It’s only- only when you’re touching me,” Feral explains around pleasured gasps, and Kitty leans as close as she dares.

“So, if I were to leave right now, you wouldn’t be able to read my thoughts?” She teases, purposefully spinning a new fantasy in her mind. Leaving him tied up and walking over to the counter, sitting there and watching him. She can imagine him begging, trying to fuck the air with the wetness of her cunt cooling on him.

“Don’t you dare,” Feral snaps his teeth close to her ear, voice something inhuman, and Kitty chuckles. She leans back, drags her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, and drinks in the hot desperation in his eyes. She’s playing with fire here - hellfire, if she wants to be specific - but damn if it doesn’t make her feel powerful to tease a demon.

“Kitty,” he whispers her name, and Kitty shivers at the sound of it. Each time, it sounds so remarkable, and it occurs to her that she never actually learned Feral’s name to repay the favour.

“What’s your name?” Kitty thinks to ask, “I’ve been calling you Feral, but you must have a proper name.”

“You want to hold that much power over me?” Feral replies, and Kitty flushes as she realizes what she just asked. Of course, he’s a demon, his name isn’t as simple a thing as hers. Before she can backpedal, Feral whispers a word into the room, syllables that crackle with power and smell of brimstone. Something so twisted and complex, Kitty could never hope to record it. He’d given it to her without hesitation, without a deal. The severity of it hangs in the air between them until Feral speaks once more, “I like Feral, though.”

Kitty nods, overcome with some strange emotion at his sacrifice to her. It lingers in her nerves, a lightning storm within her, thrilling and boundless. Holding tight to that, Kitty lifts her hips slowly riding him anew. Her fingers dig into his forearms, to what she now knows to be petrified flesh. Her pinky finger digs into a crack, and she can feel the inhuman heat much more intensely there.

It’s nothing compared to the burning presence of him within her, though. It borders on pain, flirts with agony, and Kitty pursues it relentlessly. She takes her pleasure from him, confident that his bindings will hold even though he’s not what she originally thought. Kitty is no green recruit, she knows that no matter what you catch, you throw everything you have at it. So there is scripture engraved in the silver bands on his wrists, which means Kitty can take her time.

Feral thrusts into her as much as he can, his strength even in those aborted motions impossible. It drives little gasps from Kitty whenever he drives up to meet her descending hips. She barely manages to hold herself back from leaning on him; a bite from a vampire is dangerous, but one from a demon? It could very well kill her, and not in a way where she comes back as a glittering member of the undead.

“No, I wouldn’t- I won’t kill you,” Feral vows. Kitty finds herself oddly comfortable with him responding to her thoughts, moreso than she should be. She should feel invaded, but that’s a little difficult when she definitely is being invaded physically, plowed through time and time again, greedy for the intrusion.

“Kitty, let me bite you.” What could have been a command comes out as needy begging, and Kitty wants nothing more than to lean forward and oblige, knowing he won’t kill her. But it’s a huge risk, even so. Not much is known of how demons are made, a bite could still end her human life.

“It’s too late for that,” Feral pants, and Kitty closes her eyes. She knows what he’s going to say, but she needs to hear it. “You can already feel it, can’t you? My touch started corrupting you that first night.”

She had seen it a few days ago. Thin black lines, spreading from a tiny scrape on her ankle that refused to heal. She’d gotten it during her flight from Feral, but she’d hoped it was a cut from something innocuous.

Not so, apparently.

“How long do I have?” Kitty whispers.

“I don’t know,” Feral answers honestly, and once again, Kitty fails to feel fear where she knows she should. Maybe that’s something demonic growing in her already. Or maybe she just wants him so bad, corrupting touch and all, that she’s willing to go to hell for it.

“You won’t just go there, you’ll rule Hell,” Feral mutters reverently, and Kitty bites her lower lip, thinking of it. Of living in all the sin and debauchery she could handle, indulging in every vice without shame. An eternity of unconcealed rage, of Feral.

“Yes, together,” Feral responds to her fantasy, his eyes remaining fixed on the soft skin of her throat. “But please, while you’re still human, let me taste you.”

“Will it speed up the process?” As intoxicating as her idea of ruling hell - which is basically just a demon orgy in her mind - is, Kitty likes being human for now.

“...maybe,” Feral hangs his head, defeated. The smart thing to do would be to ride him until one or both of them cums, then climb off and release him. He’s not a feral vamp after all. 

Well, the _really_ smart thing would have been not to climb on his dick in the first place, so to hell with being clever. And with Kitty, apparently.

“Oh, fuck it,” Kitty groans, before leaning forward and grabbing Feral’s chin in her hand. She holds his gaze for a moment, searching for… Well, she’s not sure what for. But she thinks she finds it, somewhere in the flames dancing deep in his sockets.

Kitty leans forward and presents her neck to him, bracing herself on his shoulders and continuing to ride him. His breath cascades over her shoulder, stinging the skin like a sunburn. He drags his tongue in a long, hot stroke over her skin, which Kitty is certain actually does burn her. She doesn’t care, however, it only adds to the building pleasure within her.

Then, without further warning, Feral sinks his teeth into her flesh. Kitty clamps a hand to her mouth, smothering the noise that flies out of her, somewhere between a scream and a moan. Because of course, Feral is a demon, not the perfectly formed predator of a vampire. Vampires have two fangs, and an anaesthetic in their saliva, adapted to feeding on humans continually for centuries.

Demons are made to rend flesh, to torment and destroy. Each one of Feral’s teeth is pointed, sinking deep into the muscles of her shoulder, and she knows now why he bit here there, rather than higher up towards the major veins and arteries. Pain ricochets through Kitty body like a wildfire, burning out conscious thought. 

But underneath the pain, the pleasure of their coupling still lays. Kitty whimpers deep in her throat and bucks her hips, seeking that friction once more. Stimulation from her cunt mixes with the pain, twisting something dark within her. Kitty doesn’t have a name for it and her mind is too blank to provide one, but what she does know is that whatever is happening feels so incredibly good.

She’s balanced on a knife edge between the feel of Feral’s cock inside of her, and of his teeth, still lodged within her. He growls, or at least that’s the closest word that comes to mind to describe the sound he makes, a bastard blend of the grinding of heavy stone and a clap of thunder. Kitty feels it through his teeth, it resonates into her core and sends her falling into an orgasm the likes of which she’s never known.

It’s intense, almost frightening, world going dark as she clenches her eyes shut and trembles, every nerve and every muscle fiber straining with the force of it. Kitty is vaguely aware in the middle of it of Feral releasing her shoulder to clamp down on a different part of her arm. It causes a spike in her, one more wave of near-painful pleasure, and a detached part of her mind notes that it feels near as good as the cock she clenches around.

As Kitty comes down, Feral bites her one more time before spilling himself inside of her. She really ought to be more concerned about the implications of that, but given that she’s already becoming a demon, and the pain blossoming from dozens of punctures on her shoulder and arm feels more like pleasure than anything else, Kitty figures she has enough to worry about. 

Like how, exactly, she’s going to explain her current crisis of species to her employer, which has a strict zero tolerance policy for demons. Kitty’s pretty sure she’s just broken company policy in a big, _big_ way.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot thank my beta Etra enough for editing these all, she's incredible. Please keep her in your prayers, given what trash I send her lol
> 
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> [tumblr](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com)


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